


Winging it

by MorpheusEnMemori (Its_Darling)



Series: Transition [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Drinking, Lesbian Pauling, Other, Trans Male Character, Trans!Spy, bi spy, general antics and doings, lesbian that works too much with her bitchy bi wingman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Darling/pseuds/MorpheusEnMemori
Summary: So, what happens when Miss Pauling has to work with a spy for a couple missions?It helps that the BLU Spy knows she's a lesbian and finally, Pauling can stop dealing with flirtatious attitudes. Towards her.Mostly antics, some violence, and corpse hidingwhat will be a bunch of side stories strictly involving BLU Spy and Miss Pauling to "For the want of a Nail"(updates sporadically, maybe once a month)





	Winging it

**Author's Note:**

> I did it.  
> I wrote about it.  
> Because I sure as hell can't draw it.  
> Also I apparently got started at the right time, given it's pride month.  
> No, Pauling doesn't know Spy is a transmale. She will. Later. Much later.  
> (ps: I have no idea how to tag this)

                It takes a bit for Pauling to process what she was told.

                Certainly not what she was expecting from the Administrator. Miss Pauling prides herself on being self-sufficient, efficient, and reliable. Being told she would have to work with a partner, especially with one of the eighteen mercs of Teufort. One was already chosen for her.

                The BLU Spy, to be more specific. Well, not the _worst_ candidate. Literate, provided decent conversation, even though he was exceptionally good at getting himself in trouble then immediately begging her to get him out of it.  
                But he certainly could get himself out of real binds, so long as no one else sabotaged him.

                “Good morning, Miss Pauling.” The Spy says.

                Pauling huffs, still trying to sort out why she needed the Spy. Honestly, the way this mission sounded, she needed to take out targets from a distance. Neither Spy would be a good fit, then she thought of both Snipers and their hygiene.  
                Either this was supposed to be a mercy, or Pauling was given a challenge.  
                She wasn’t quite sure which one it was.

                Pauling didn’t say much to Spy, finding little reason to. He should know what the mission is, Pauling could count on most Spies being prepared for anything.

                BLU didn’t bother her, simply following her at her quick pace, his hands in his pockets. It was the most disheveled she’s seen him, with the unbuttoned suit jacket. Though, he was still able to catch some of the paperwork that slips from her files, keeping hold of them until she was able to put them back in their respective places.

                “Erm. Thanks.” Pauling says.

                “My pleasure.” He replies.

                It was just the last minute things, putting away all the day’s paperwork that she always gets done early. And getting her gun. She can see from within Spy’s jacket that he has a Diamondback, which was a bit strange given the RED Spy’s preference of the Ambassador. That, and she was sure BLU told her he liked the L'Etranger.  
                Details. Maybe he lied to her, or decided he liked the Diamondback better between three months ago and now.

                “Right. So. I suppose you’re not going to be caught dead on a moped.” Pauling says.

                “I have driven them before, but, given we may need to move some bodies…” Spy says, “A car would make more sense, _non_?”

                As much as Pauling hated admitting it, BLU… was just really different from RED. Well, that made sense. They are vastly different men. But, she was used to RED’s strange shortcomings and generalized displeasure with suicide missions. All the while, seemed that BLU prided himself on being able to get himself into all sorts of trouble and complete suicide missions without a hitch or complaint.

                “I guess?” Pauling asks.

                “Miss Pauling.” Spy starts, “Something catch you off guard?”

                “Ah. Well. You.” Pauling says.

                “Oh, if you want catching off guard, I could take off the ski mask.” Spy says.

                The rule on the ski mask… was more because RED wanted one. Pauling was aware that BLU was fine with using typical disguises that involved makeup, wigs, and masks. While on the clock, BLU was supposed to keep his face hidden.  
                Well, while fighting against the other mercs, at least. She didn’t quite remember the wording of their contracts.

                “Are you really going to risk a penalty to your paycheck?” Pauling asks.

                “Who knows.” Spy says, “But, neither of us will know if we never get there.”

                So he’s winging this.

                “Alright, I guess you’re the ‘wingman’ because I can’t believe you’re winging this…” She says.

                Spy catches her off guard again by laughing at her horrendous joke. Then she hears him _snort_. If Spy was closer to her type, it’d be rather endearing. That, and she’s a bit surprised that both Spies have exceptionally similar laughs. Though BLU had a different pitch to it.

                “And what next Miss Pauling?” he asks between a few snorts, “I am going to suddenly spurt wings and fly, all while _winging_ it?”

                She tried not to laugh, she really did. But the two of them ended up chuckling over an even worse inclusion of her already awful joke. Pauling would not tell Spy, but he did help calm her down. For just a moment, Pauling could pretend this was just an easy mission and she didn’t have an unexpected partner working for her. When they both calm down, Spy sighs as he straightens his tie.

                “Well, seems the moment is done. Let us get to the hotel in the city, we have to dress ‘up’ for this.” Spy says, “Despite how I am dressed for every occasion.”

                She sighs, following Spy out the building and into his car. It’s a lovely sports car too, gorgeous blue color, though she made the mistake of saying it’s ‘like a Ferrari’.

                “No. This is a Lamborghini Miura, but given RED has the Ferrari Daytona, I can understand the confusion.” Spy says.

                “I never heard of it, Lamborghini.” Pauling says.

                They get into the car, which was surprisingly more spacious than she took it for. She glances at the back, seeing a few suitcases, and… a bodybag. That was full. Well, it didn’t smell if there was a body in there.

                “No body, not this time, it just has corpse-grade quicklime. Though I have stuffed three in here at one time, at the cost of my clothing and favorite suitcases.” He says, “But back on point, Lamborghini is a relatively new company. I fell in love immediately when I saw this one. RED can have his Ferrari, I quite enjoy this brand.”

                That was a bit too much car talk for Pauling, and was thankful that Spy was setting up for a comfortable drive. Suit jacket off, shirt sleeves up, and they were moving quickly to their destination. She sits back, looking through her files one more time. This was a mix of an espionage mission and an assassination. New target, someone important, though Pauling had to determine what exactly the group of men was doing in the outskirts of Badlands, in one of the nicest cities in the area… Before killing them and disposing their bodies under dirt and quicklime.

                “Do you mind if I ask a personal question?” Spy asks.

                “Depends on what it is.” Pauling says, not looking up from her files.

                “Why don’t you tell Scout you’re disinterested?” Spy asks.

                She snaps her files shut, breathing in deeply. Pauling wasn’t certain why she was taking this in near offense, given she did feel momentary relief that it’s clear someone else could see she was not attracted to Scout. But she knew where he was digging, and figured deflecting would be the best answer.

                “I do. Often. Besides, Scout makes it awkward enough and he knows he fumbles often.” She says.

                “Except for the fact that I know you are completely disinterested in him, and you will never be interested in men.” He replies.

                Right. Go figure the Spy knows she’s a lesbian. On the one hand, she should shoot him. On the other hand, this was her partner, he was driving a sports car in extreme speeds, and the Administrator would kill her. Literally.

                “How did you know?” she asks.

                “Let’s just say I can pick out ‘my own people’ and I wanted you to know I understand what it’s like to be… hidden.” He says.

                That could mean an assortment of different things. Pauling looks to Spy, seeing how his hands were tense on the wheel, and how he keeps his eyes firmly on the road. This tenseness spread through his body, perhaps he thought he reached too far.

                “I.” Pauling starts, “I’m not so sure this was the best way to bring out you knew.”

                “My RED counterpart knew first. And I learned your secret, in error. Your file was mixed in with a document I was looking for.” Spy says, “Since I could not hide that I knew, I figured this was the best way to bring it out. I would be devastated, in your situation. But, I wanted to connect with you, make an attempt at it at least. I understand if this was… off putting.”

                Well, it was. She did think about how he was reacting, and perhaps it was genuine. Who knew with Spies, RED certainly sidestepped many questions. Pauling expected BLU to do the exact same, but maybe he was being genuine. No one outright admits you’re not straight, not unless you trusted the person enough.

                “I do hope you eventually clarify where you are on the spectrum, but I certainly don’t expect to hear answers now. I know you slept with women, it’s why I ask.” Pauling says.

                “Perhaps further along the mission, I would end up laughing at a portion of the escapades I would like to bring up.” Spy says.

                He’s faintly smiling, then he erratically turns. Defensive driving, though Pauling recalls RED complaining about not being able to make sudden maneuvers. She looks to the side view mirror, seeing an assortment of non-descript vehicles following them.

                “I could lose them, or I could send them to their ‘untimely’ deaths. Your choice, Miss Pauling.” He says.

                “Let’s play it safe and kill them.” She says.

                “ _Bien sûr_.” He says.

 

                * * *

                Pauling woke up snuggling one of the pillows in the hotel. She wipes some spit off her face, sighing as she sits up. She hears some quick movement, as well as a couple of objects fumbling around. Probably at the dresser mirror. She’s not quite sure how that chase exhausted her, though BLU did convince her to rest. They got to the hotel in record time, it was a room he rents, and it was so… him.  
                Blue colored room, but she didn’t have the time to enjoy the view. She slept, given there was a couple hours before the intended place even opened. Especially since Spy prodded her to do so.

                Speaking of Spy, she looks around the room, reaching for her glasses on the nightstand. She could see without them, but things could get too blurry for her.  
                She finds Spy by the dresser mirror, mostly nude except for a towel around his waist. She couldn’t help but stare, for a couple of reasons. He wasn’t wearing his mask, and seemed to be in the middle of a couple beauty rituals. Certainly wasn’t expecting the makeup, though she did recall his preferences in disguises.  
                Though, maybe it was for other reasons. His hair was longer than she expected it to be, since most men preferred crew cuts. It was also the fact that he had a couple streaks of white, and despite how small they looked, it was a clear trend for his hair.  
                She wasn’t expecting him to stare at him, and neither was she expecting green eyes. There was a couple bottles filled with contacts of different colors. That and there were faint marks on his face, probably from some past torture. They were exceptionally precise too, and she was surprised that all the marks healed so well. Though, attention to detail was her specialty…  
                Sure, all these things surprised her. But no, she had to focus on something not related to his face.

                “Um.” She starts, “Nice tattoo.”

                That was the last surprise. A large bunch of roses on vines on his chest. All the roses were blue, which she was not sure if that was a personal choice, or if he gotten them fixed before he joined BLU.

                “Thank you, I’m quite proud of them.” He says, “I was going to make them a variety of colors, but after being hired by BLU, I figured blue would be safer.”

                So that’s where BLU spent a portion of his time, dealing with tattoo artists. She knew where RED went, to Boston or places all around the Northeast Americas in general.

                “Looks like I did get to see your face.” She says, “Taking the penalty?”

                “I spoke with the Administrator, noting where we were going and cited she wanted stealth. A ski mask is not stealthy in this situation. She’ll wave the penalty for the next two days.” Spy says, “So long as none of the other mercs see me, even if they do not immediately recognize me. Otherwise, I will take a quadruple penalty.”

                Chances of that happening should be slim, though she was surprised he accepted such terms. He turns back to the mirror, returning to styling his hair. It started looking less like a wavy mess, though the moment he had his hands away, grabbing for some non-descript makeup, it went back to the wavy state. Though, it looked neater.

                “So much for ‘stage grade hair gel.’ And it stinks too!” Spy says.

                “You’re going out without putting on a wig?” Pauling asks.

                “Sometimes hiding in plain sight works. Besides, I already managed to talk to a few people familiar with the area we’re going to. Only, they saw a blond haired man with hazel eyes in a red suit. I had suspicions that people would have followed me.” Spy says.

                That was quick, and efficient. Pauling was still uncertain of this set up, but she doubted she could convince Spy to try a new disguise. Or use his Spytron 3000, despite how she sees it leaning against the mirror.

                “What about the tattoo?” she asks.

                “What about it? Nothing makeup cannot cover up.” He says.

                Much to her surprise, she watches him apply a generous amount onto his skin, and sees how he uses it to hide all the detailing. Eventually, his chest looks plain and seems as though he has no such artwork on himself. Though, it does make it seem as though he has no nipples. To her surprise, she watches him grab a couple pinkish colors, and completes the look. Looks completely natural by the time he’s done. He sprays some sort of clear spray over the makeup, fanning himself to dry it.

                “I discovered an amazing product called ‘setting spray.’ Actors use it for their elaborate set ups. I can even swim with this on, and there is no risk of the makeup coming off.” He says.

                “Wow.” Pauling says.

                She couldn’t help but think of all the ways that would help her out. She has to wear makeup for the job, and hated how it would get so runny with every task she does, requiring so many reapplications.

                “I need that setting spray. I will give you a few days extra vacation time for it!” Pauling says firmly.

                “If you can make it a week sometime after this mission, you will have at least ten bottles.” He says.

                That will take so much work.  
                But the setting spray, she would look so professional while murdering people.

                “Deal!” She says.

                Spy chuckles at her comment, returning to his beauty rituals. Pauling will contact the Administrator after the mission, she’ll have to pull so many strings. And this mission has to go without many hitches.

                “What exactly did you find out about this place? I know it’s technically a restaurant bar.” Pauling says.

                “Everyone knows it’s a ‘gay bar,’ the restaurant part is a decent cover.” Spy says.

                Pauling could not help but stand up at that revelation. A gay bar. She had always wanted to go to one, but heard so many rumors… though Pauling thought she would be out of place. Well, Spy more than likely would be, but she still has little idea where on the ‘spectrum’ he was on.

                “Any chance you were able to see the inside of it?” Pauling asks.

                “What sort of Spy would I be if I couldn’t?” he says, “It seems to have a mixed patronage, though I deduced it was primarily lesbian.

                Why were their targets going to a gay bar is the better question. But, Spy clued her into a lot of information. Seemed that the men and women who had a hand in this are paid protection money. Police issues, since the area was being profiled. She knew it was happening more often, though Spy seems to believe that things will start turning around.

                “France appears to be having similar issues, especially Paris. But, I think that this is only temporary.” He says.

                “I wonder why though… Why there.” Pauling says.

                “I discovered one of our targets is a lesbian. I have a couple incriminating photos that was going to be used against her… and promptly burned them.” He says.

                Pauling would normally find such actions strange, then she pieced it together. As much as it would make sense for Spy to keep the photos, this may have touched on a topic he was unwilling to dirty his hands on.

                “I’m not sure if this is you being nice…” Pauling says.

                “We are here to kill her, not out her.” Spy says, “Besides that, I am debating on the best course of action after we create a power vacuum. The place is too nice to let go to the police raids.”

                Strong feelings, much stronger than she thought Spy was capable of feeling. Pauling concluded Spy had to be gay, there was no other reason why he was so passionate about this.

                “This is definitely you being nice.” Pauling says.

                “More like I would like a place where I could belong for a few hours, and it just so happens there’s a place within a reasonable driving distance.” Spy says, “That, and what would I do with all the money I have? I eventually realized there is no conceivable way I could use it in my lifetime.”

                She chuckles at the statement, despite how all the mercs including him will be asking what they will get paid. Spy slowly stands, holding onto the towel around his waist.

                “Now, I need to get dressed and you should shower. You’re free to see what I brought, but I request you do not touch my shaving products.” He says.

                * * *

                “I feel ridiculous.” Pauling says.

                Spy convinced her to dress more masculine, explaining that people would not expect her to be in such an outfit. Somehow, Spy not only had the suit ready, but he had her measurements and her preferred shades of purple. Spy looked almost perfect, as always. In the cooler air, he had on an overcoat, as did she. But, she saw him dressed in a non-pinstripe suit, a black shirt, and had black and white oxford shoes. Pauling thought he was showing off with the leather gloves, even a set for her, but there was a practical reason to have on gloves.  
                No fingerprints.

                “Come now Miss Pauling, this should not take long. A couple hours, at most.” He says.

                Deep in his pockets, he had a couple vials of a poison that he was hoping would get to the targets. He would have to confirm their deaths, but Pauling was sure of his abilities. Still, felt strange to be walking with him. It wasn’t that long of a walk, and they followed a group of people into the bar.

                It felt… Strange. Almost like Pauling walked into a second home. She certainly felt comfortable and she could forget the reason why they were here. Spy helped lead her to a small booth meant for couples, getting out of the way of everyone, and simultaneously getting the best view of everyone.  
                Pauling already picked out one of their targets. She was about to see if Spy noticed, but one of the patrons already slinked by him. Pauling saw the feminine clothes, but noticed her face seemed more masculine. And, no matter how much she tried, there was no hiding the masculine twinge in her voice.

                “So darling, you’re a new face. Where are you from?” she asks.

                “Paris.” Spy says.

                “Certainly sounds like you come from there.” The woman chuckles, “This your girlfriend, or someone you use to hide in public?”

                “Ah…” Spy starts, “Nancy is a friend.”

                Pauling frowns slightly at the name. Certainly wasn’t hers, but she really hated how he insisted on it. For stealth, he says. Not that many people knew there was a woman with the last name Pauling was after them! But, she relented. Especially with the name she picked for him.

                “Oh Pierre, you’re embarrassing me.” She says.

                “It’s true though, she’s an excellent friend.” Spy says.

                “Well, good luck on your transition.” The woman says, “I know when I have no chance. I’ll get you both some drinks though.”

                When she leaves, she noticed how Spy was trying so hard to hold back from laughing. She raises a brow, watching him slowly regain control of himself, wiping away a couple tears that formed.

                “ _Désoler_. Made me think of a comment I received at Zanzibar in Cannes. Inside joke.” He says.

                “What did she mean by transition?” Pauling asks.

                “The woman must think I was going to transition to a woman.” Spy says, “Easy mistake, I am hardly offended.”

                The woman indeed returns with drinks. Martinis, and Pauling watches Spy take his with a great deal of enthusiasm. That must be his favorite drink, though Pauling hated the olive version of this. She takes it to be polite, figuring that she could have one while on the job. Shouldn’t hurt.

                “What brings you to this backwater?” the woman asks, “Stonewall in San Francisco would be much nicer, and it’s maybe a day’s drive from here.”

                “Visiting an assortment of bars and locales. How it’s done in France, at least.” Spy says.

                The woman seemed satisfied with that answer, and continues bringing up topics that Spy answers with interesting bits about France. Stuff that had to be true, with how Spy was describing it, and the fondness he has in his eyes. Pauling sips on her drink, quietly listening to his explanations.

                * * * (BLU Spy)

                It was nice, talking about home. He visits on occasion, but never long. Not unless he fears someone recognizes him.  
                Well, Antoinette. He would have to wait a couple years more, when he hopes that people leave. Or when this war he’s in is over, then he can relax. Though he may go to Cannes over Paris, Zanzibar is such a comfortable place.

                Then he sees him. Raul, the fiendish rogue Spy left in Cannes. The woman (her name, Janet? Probably, he didn’t quite catch it) noticed the way he shifted in discomfort. Pauling would too, if it weren’t for the fact that she was supplied with more martinis. Spy only drank half of every one, skillfully dumping or passing away the half glasses. Nothing was tainted, he felt no different. Though, Pauling seems to be incapable of holding her liquor.

                No matter. Janet calls over Raul. Spy adjusts back to a neutral position. He doubts Raul would recognize him, it’s been years. Too many years, and Spy changed so much about his appearance.

                “Janet, made new friends?” Raul asks.

                Spy almost pines for him, the Italian reminding him of so many lovely nights. But, he steadies himself from reaching out. Or reaching in for his knife. He’s an interloper, and Spy would have to handle this.

                “Yes, I met an interesting couple, Pierre and Nancy.” Janet says.

                Spy could see it. That level of recognition, one that he gets when he is almost certain he has seen a person before. Raul takes a couple moments more, speaking in French.

                “Do I know you?” he asks.

                “Doubtful.” Spy responds in English.

                Janet perks to attention, looking between the men. Pauling has enough sense to reach out for Spy, taking a hold of his hand on his table. He didn’t realize how clenched it was.

                “Hm. Maybe we always crossed by each other, but never talked. I went to Zanzibar often.”  Raul says.

                “Ah. Zanzibar. I always wanted to go.” Spy says, “Never found the time to.”

                Some sort of noise came from within the bar. More than just a bit of glass broke, there seemed to be a… disagreement. Both Raul and Janet say a quick farewell, leaving to investigate. Neither one are on the hit list, though Spy intends on getting Raul. This was far too much of a coincidence for his liking.

                “Spy what the hell?” Pauling says lowly.

                “Just the past, that will soon _stay_ in the past.” Spy says.

                He flicks open the Black Rose, hissing when it catches on his thumb. Too quick, and far too used to the standard balisong. He slips it in the sleeve of his jacket, slipping away from Miss Pauling. He could barely hear her protests, instead navigating his way through the crowd. He knew how to walk with a certain kind of purpose, where you want no attention because you appear busy.  
                Right when he got where he needed to, he glances around, turning on his invisiwatch he had on his person and slips inside a back room. He was in here earlier, sneaking down a set of stairs that lead him stumbling into an impromptu meeting. Raul and Janet must have some sort of holdings in the bar, why else would they be here?

                No matter. He observes the argument for a moment. Seems that the group had such little cohesion that there were disagreements over dealing with a gay bar. Too much police involvement, and some members of the group were ready to cut their losses. Then Spy hears their interests closer to Teufort. Ah, that explains why the Administrator wants them dead. Too many interlopers, and it would create too many pulls for power. That, and given the entirety of Teufort was more than ‘off hinged,’ Spy knew that the introduction of a criminal cell would disturb the fragile balance.

                He’ll be able to explain everything to Pauling once she’s sober. Spy makes use of what time he has left of his invisiwatch, poisoning half the drinks that was available. The argument disintegrates, with Janet running upstairs to cry. Decision was made, the group was going to leave.

                “Monsters.” Raul says with disgust, turning to leave as well.

                No. Spy needs him _here_. But, Spy had to let Raul leave. Raul was secondary, everyone else here was the main target. It takes a couple minutes more, but Spy watches them drink the spiked drinks. Only two weren’t.  
                That was fine, it’s why he had his knife. Good thing he used cyanide, given how the reaction was near immediate. He would have to suffocate them soon after, just to make sure the deed was done. But, that was for later.  
                He had two backs turned to him as the men tried figuring out why their colleagues were collapsing in devastating pain. Backstabbing them felt… inadequate. But, it let loose so much of the sudden stress.

                “ _Merde_. Got blood on my suit. I liked this one too.” He says.

                Spy shrugged off the feeling, getting back to work. He would have to partially clean the mess, plant a couple red herrings for police, and hide some of the bodies. There was a backdoor for incoming stock he could use, wouldn’t be that difficult to move the car. Out of seven bodies, he only needed to hide five. That would be uncomfortable in his car, but he could manage. It was all about when, and he processed that as he strangled all but one of the remaining teammates that lived.

                “why?” he hears.

                The one he left alive was the woman, as per instructions of the contract. Spy had to try to make this look like a group collapse.

                “There are more factors than you, and it paid good money.” Spy says.

                If she had more to say, he could not hear it. Unconsciousness was common for cyanide poisoning. So long as no one walks down, Spy would be fine.  
                Just as he thought that, he heard the rush of footsteps. He stands, twisting an arm behind his back just so he could hide his knife. There was no hiding this, but how he handles the interloper would all depend on who walked down.

                Just his luck, it was Raul. He hardly hesitated, pulling a gun on Spy. He sighs, keeping a firm hold of his position. Raul would not shoot, just so long as he kept still.

                “What just happened?” Raul asks.

                “Isn’t it obvious? I killed them.” Spy says.

                Caught him off guard, and Spy tried hard not to think of his old flame. His hair was still blond, despite how he should be in his mid-forties. And the fire in his eyes hasn’t burned out.  
                For now.  
                Spy would hate doing this, though he at least has an excuse. He hears another set of footsteps, significantly more cautious and meticulous. Pauling. Had to be her, maybe she could handle his problem for her.

                “As much as they were bastards, this only means trouble for here if you aren’t arrested.” Raul says.

                “ _Logique_.” Spy says.

                Raul continues staring at him, that same sense of familiarity. Spy sees the shoes of the person creeping down the stairs. Pauling’s, at least she’s taking great caution. Maybe Spy can handle Raul on his own. He certainly hopes one of them does, before Pauling finds out things he wants unknown.

                “I did meet you at Zanzibar.” Raul says, “You look far too familiar.”

                “ _Oui_. You did.” Spy says.

                “Why lie about it?” Raul asks.

                Why indeed. Spy could have run the risk of his old name, the dead one, being used. Raul only knew Antoinette. He did not know Spy.

                “ _J'ai mes raisons_.” Spy says.

                “Everyone has their reasons.” Raul argues, “But I fail to understand yours.”

                There was one phrase he could use. One that they said to each other, long ago. He sees Pauling creep down further, and when their eyes meet, she gained a new sense of purpose. Sobered up slightly, reaching inside the coat for the gun.  
                Raul walks closer to Spy, keeping the gun aimed at him.

                “What more do you want?” Spy asks.

                Raul was forming an answer, and then Spy sees it. Pauling misplaced her footing, and she slips down the remaining stairs. She loses her gun in the process too. Spy sighs, fairly sure he rolled his eyes as well. Raul glances behind him, frowning over Pauling as he turns his direction back to Spy.

                “There’s much more I want, but seems you’re both intent on killing me. And Janet.” Raul says.

                “If I can avoid killing Janet, I will.” Spy says.

                Raul holds his gun firmer, seeming ready to shoot. Spy hears Pauling groan, watching her shift her position as she tries to clutch her head. She must have had another drink. Spy figures he could let a bit more about himself go, since there was little chance Miss Pauling should remember.

                “Raul.” Spy says.

                “There is no talking out of this.” Raul says.

                “Do you remember the last thing I said to you?” Spy asks.

                It catches Raul’s attention, seeing the hesitation. Raul liked women, even though he transitioned from one. Spy understood, and left when he could.

                “ _Au revoir, ma raison d'être. Je t'aime_.” Spy says.

                Raul hesitates further, moving the gun away just enough for Spy to close the distance. Spy does get close, holding the gun away as he holds the knife he stabbed in his old lover’s stomach.

                “Antoinette?” Raul asks weakly.

                Spy stabs the blade in deeper, holding a firm expression as he sees how Raul twitches in pain. He knew why he left. As much of a lover Raul was, he would never give Spy what he needed.

                “ _Non_. Not for a long time.” Spy says, “ _Adieu pour toujours_.”

                Spy takes out the knife, twisting Raul so that he could stab him in the back, snapping the familiar vertebrae he does against members of RED. It does not take long for life to leave Raul, and Spy sets him down gently. Sighing, he walks over to where Pauling is, picking up the gun she dropped on the way.

                “Spy, who’s Antoinette?” she asks slowly.

                Spy could only smile, seeing her disoriented nature. She would not remember this when she wakes up. And to be sure of it, he will drink with her at the hotel.  
                After he cleans up all the bodies necessary for this mission.

                * * * Pauling

                She wakes up with a massive headache. What happened last night? Well, she knew the targets plus one was dead, but conversations escape her. She knew that Spy was crying a couple of times on the multiple trips to places to bury the bodies.

                And they finished the mission in a night.

                “Ah dammit.” Pauling says, “I didn’t find out why they were such a problem.”

                “I did.” Spy says.

                She hears him groan, slowly lifting himself from the bed. He has a hand over his head, clearly appearing hung over. Right, they celebrated in the hotel with more drinks. For some reason. Spy seemed overly enthusiastic to get her to drink.

                “Why does my hand hurt…?” he asks.

                He lifts his right hand, both of them seeing his Black Rose stabbed through it.  
                Right. Pauling somehow convinced him to play the knife game. Spy stares at his hand further, seeming to process the action. He slowly takes it out, ignoring the stream of blood that comes out. He uses a sheet to wrap it, flicking away the knife.

                “How are you not screaming?” Pauling asks.

                “Trained.” Spy says, his tone strained, “Screaming only draws attention in torture. Torturers use it against you, often.”

                Sounded useful, and troublesome at the same time. She sighs, reaching over for a glass of water that was set on the nightstand. And there was a filled out report in Spy’s handwriting. She glances at what she can, seeing that everything the Administrator wanted was listed.

                “Erm. Thanks Spy. I owe you that week.” She says.

                “Good. Because I will need it.” Spy says.

**Author's Note:**

> I researched a smidgen too much about cars I barely understand.  
> AKA I wanted to throw in the Ferrari and Lamborghini conflict. Because reasons. (sorry, didn't feel like going through details of a car chase, maybe I'll throw it in later)  
> Also, tattooed Spy. ROSES TOO.  
> (also according to some history stuff, seems that you could buy contact lenses in the 50s and 60s, though it was expensive. Not sure about color contacts, but, I mean, this IS tf2, where technology says "fuck you" at times)  
> (according to lesbian culture, there was still a theme of butch vs femme lesbians, and while I'm aware Pauling is more than likely femme, I think it made sense for her to appear butch since she is trying to remain in hiding)  
> there was also art involving that knife game that I FOUND IT  
> trashyscarface.tumblr.com/post/160741251857/a-brotp-we-deserve-in-the-next-fuckin-comic-thats  
> also thanks to French-Maid François for helping correct the small bit of French I got wrong


End file.
